LEGENDS SONNETS BY FRANCES L. MACE • BOSTON CUPPLES, UPHAM AND COMPANY Corner Bookstore 1883 Copyright, by CUPPLES, UPHAM AND COMPANY, 1883. ( , I ( III ' I I ' < I < 1 I C I ' . > ( < It,,, , ' ( I < 1 11 C C C I C < I , I I . I 1 l ",','. ' , t I • < ( I 1 I . . I .,.<<.< I I ' , . ELECTROTYPED. BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY, 4 PEARL STREET. CONTENTS. LEGENDS. ISRAFIL HESPEKUS. A LEGEND OF THE DAWN . THE BIRTH OF THE ROSE BALDUR THE BEAUTIFUL . THE GARDEN OF IREM . ST. GREGORY'S GUEST A STORM FANTASY . THE TREE TUBA. THE CENTURY PLANT A TUSCAN LEGEND THE HELIOTROPE . THE FIRST AT THE FEAST TEARS OF Isis . VIDAR THE SILENT PLYMOUTH ROCK . NOROMBEGA .... KlNEO .... THE BOWDOIN OAK 1 15 18 29 32 36 40 44 46 48 51 53 55 57 58 60 63 67 72 M: r IV CONTENTS. LYRICS. EASTER MORNING ........ 79 URANIA .......... 83 ONLY WAITING ......... 87 ARCADIA .......... 89 * i± BUDDHIST VISION ........ GREENWOOD GREETINGS ...... 99 TEEE FIRST ROBIN ........ 103 VIOLETS .... ... 105 THE FEAST OF THE VALLEY ...... 106 PEARLS OF PRICE . . ...... 108 THE SIGNAL ......... Ill DREAMLAND CITY ........ 113 RECOMPENSE . . . . . . . .117 SONG PHANTOMS ........ 118 UP THE RIVER ......... 121 HAIL AND FAREWELL . ..... 123 A SEASIDE PICTURE ........ 125 LOTUS-EATING ......... 129 SUNSET AT SEAL POINT COTTAGE .... 131 BLACK-CAP MOUNTAIN ....... 134: RIVERSIDE ......... 137 To BEETHOVEN ....... .141 FROM ROME ......... 143 OBERAMMERGAU ......... 146 WHAT CHEER ? ....... 146 A VIGIL . ........ 149 INDIAN SUMMER . .... 152 CENTENNIAL HYMN ....... 154 WINTER OUR GUEST ....... 156 IMMORTELLES ......... 160 CONSOLATION , 162 CONTEXTS V S 0 X X E T S ORIENT TO OCCIDENT . ^ 167 OCCIDENT TO ORIENT 168 THE SEVEN DAYS 169 LONGFELLOW 175 VICTORIA 176 To THE RAINBOW .177 THE MAGIC FLUTE 178 MIDNIGHT 179 DAYBREAK .... 180 FRIENDSHIP 181 THE FLOWER PAINTER 182 EBB AND FLOW .... . . 184 HAPPINESS 185 SOUNDS FROM HOME 186 FAR AND XEAR 187 FOREST AVORSHIP 188 ISOLATION 189 ALTAR FLOWERS 190 STAR SOLITUDE 191 ST. CECILIA 192 LEGENDS. ' LEGENDS. I S R A F I L. ISRAFIL ! Stay thy sickle on vale and hill. Come from the woods whose gorgeous leaves Pale and wither beneath thy tread : Come from binding among thy sheaves Dearer blossoms of beauty dead, Of grandeur and of worth Wrested away from earth. Bend thy sorrowful eyes on me, Angel of death ! and while nature breathes One hour from thy sad dominion free, Tell me the mystery of thy woe, The legend I only have heard in dreams. Over my heart shall flow ' < ( , I , ICC , ' ' , < ' ' . < , , , 2 LEGENDS. In fuller measures the solemn strain, Up from depths of tears and pain Rising to patience, — rising again To a paean of triumph. Hush ! be still ! Whence this odor of amaranth wreaths? Whence these faint and starlike beams Shed from feet which make no sound ? A touch of fire Is on my lyre, And its strings with a sudden, rapturous, bound Thrill beneath the angel fingers. O O Thou art come — thou art gone ! Yet in all my being lingers A breath celestial, a voiceless tone, — I shall not utter my song alone, Israfil ! On Paradise A softer hue of glory lies, The hush of evening, for the night Comes slowly o'er young Eden's skies, Reluctant to conceal from sight One blossom's radiant dyes. A thousand birds amid the shade, To sleep their shining plumage fold, ISRAF1L. 3 A thousand flowers that cannot fade Perfume afresh their leaves of o-old, O Far off, rising stars illume ' O The gentle, yet half fearful gloom Which folds in deeper shade yon myrtle bower. There lost in slumbers pure and deep, Wrapt in the stillness of the hour, Unconscious yet of tempter's power, The first-born, guiltless mortals sleep. Lo ! down the airy waste Four shining angels haste : O O Their eager wings make music as they come, Flashing alone: the nicfht, O O O ' All redolent of light, O 7 As if the splendors of their upper home Reflected still illumed their earthward flight. On, swiftly on, past star by star, Leaving a path of glory far Behind their luminous wings, at last O 7 The measureless expanse is past, And at their feet in beauty lies The new-made, earthly Paradise. As when from envious shadow breaks Sweet Hesperus and walks the aisles Of heaven's blue temple, nature smiles And added grace and beauty takes, LEGENDS. So Eden, conscious in its dreams Of a diviner atmosphere, Breathes richer fragrance far and near, And in the angelic presence beams. A moment stay their steps to view Scenes to angel vision new, — Roses burdened with the dew By the tender night distilled, Birds whose last good-night is trilled Sleeping on the tremulous bough, Fountains white in moonlight glow : But a moment, for the night Deepens, and without the gate Evil spirits hide and wait. Each bright angel seeks his post, Armed, and mightier than a host Of the envious, guileful band That in outer darkness stand. Northward, southward, westward go One by one the heavenly guard, Clothed about with garments white That diffuse a silvery glow, Bearing each a sword of li^ht O O With celestial jewels starred. Last with lingering steps that seem Loth to seek the nightly stand ISRAF1L. 0 On the utmost eastern hill, Youngest of the angel band, Lovelier than a poet's dream, Comes the angel Israfil ! Now quicker in his noiseless tread, His silvery wings expanding spread, Half floats he in the air with deep delight As scenes of new enchantment meet his sight. His eyes of liquid azure, touched with fire, More beautiful than can be sung or told, Shine 'neath the aureole of his locks of gold, With a soft restlessness, a fond desire. Adoring beauty with a love Too passionate for one of angel birth, Even at this hour he pants to rove Amid the green bowers of the fragrant earth ; To hear once more the nightingale's refrain, To touch the humid, sleeping rose again, But most of all to see The latest miracle of Deity, — The revelation, unto angels new, Of loveliness they scarcely yet conceive As real, substantial, true, The first of human womanhood, The breathing form, the spirit pure and good, The garden's royal flower, the new created Eve. 6 LEGENDS. O Israfil ! Bid thy impulsive soul be still, Until the morning wait ! o Leave not the haunted o;ate o Where even now, by evil sense aware Of thy untried and hasty mood, The serpent King with envious hate Whispers, to tempt thy angelhood, Of her the wonderfully fair, Whom but to look upon would be A rapture and an ecstasy. O Israfil, Keep well thy watch upon the starlit hill, Until the morning wait ! O Then when the summons from on hicfh O Recalls thy comrades to the sky, She shall come forth, and with sweet converse greet The parting and the coming angel host. Stay thy impetuous feet ; One moment now absented from thy post, And all is lost. The serpent watches well : thou shalt return too late ! An hour is past, All Eden sleeps in motionless repose. ISRAF1L. 7 Around, above, he casts his restless eyes And sighs to think how long the night will last. The moon rides slowly, slowlv down the skies. «. 7 *- Surely far off have vanished Eden's foes. No evil spirit can be lurking near, No sound, no breath meets his attentive ear. So long the night, so deep the silence grows, May he not wander at his wayward will If not too distant from the sentinel hill? Only a few light steps will bring him near The bower of which the angels oft have told. There in the moonlight clear O A moment tarrying, he may behold, And seeing may believe That only he has learned how beautiful is Eve. As now with wilful steps he seeks The bower where she is slumbering, The dew brushed by his rapid wing From hanging boughs, falls on his cheeks. His feet are trampling in their haste The straying rose, a wildwood vine Whose flowers the mossy pathway graced. He starts, when in the bright moonshine A bird, awakened, trills a note, Then sleeps, the song still rippling from his throat. 8 LEGENDS. But soon he trembles, listens, doubts no more : All else forgotten he is bending o'er CD O The violet bed, amid whose blest perfume Earth's fairest being sleeps, unconscious of her * doom. She sleeps — she dreams — For now a smile hovers with tender grace About her lips. The beauty of her face A breathing wonder to the ansjel seems. O O Her dark eyelashes rest Motionless on the warm flush of her cheek, Her lips part softly, as if she would speak But had in dreamland lost the word she fain would seek! One hand is lightly clasped about a rose Which fully open blows, Too blest to share its sister flowers' repose. And veiling her white breast Falls wave on wave of lustrous golden hair. •^j Like one enchanted in the moonlight glow, The ans;el lingers still and murmurs low, O O 7 " Daughter of earth, how fair ! ' Israfil ! Israfil ! The cry rings through the startled night. The angels speed in sudden fright 1SRAFIL. 9 Toward the unprotected gate. On wings of fear flies Israfil — Alas ! he flies too late. His brother angels flashing by Already with pure sense perceive An evil lurking nio;h. o o A change comes o'er the moonlit sky : The wind begins to sigh and grieve ; The garden feels a sudden chill, — The breath of coming fate. " Where hast thou strayed, O Israfil ? The serpent's taint is on the air. The son of darkness, once as fair And frail as thou, is come ! " He hides his face in his despair And stands before them, dumb. All night the angels to and fro Seek for the messenger of woe. O He, subtle, silent, still eludes Their search. In densest solitudes Evades the lustre that is shed From their celestial tread. At morn, recalled, they seek the skies, But Israfil with drooping wings No longer heavenward can arise, To earth unwilling clings. o o 10 LEGENDS. Through all that fateful day, hour after hour, With deepest sorrow thrilled, He stands invisible, apart, Sees evil warring with the human heart, And Eden's doom fulfilled. When in the evening cool the Lord appears, Sees the forbidden tree with broken bloom, The garden desolate and lost in gloom, The mortals hiding from his searching gaze, Israfil, speechless, hears Their fate pronounced, sees their repentant tears And death's dread shadow hanging o'er their days. And now on him the rays Of the Eternal Vision fall, the word Of his own doom is heard. "Since death by thee is come unto the earth, Be thou its messenger. Thy name shall be A terror unto all of human birth ; The shadow of the grave forever follow thee." In Eden it was early dawn. How changed since in the even-time The angel saw it in its prime. The erring mortals now were gone : He stood within their empty bower alone. ISRAFIL. 11 Above his head A little bird was warbling cheerily. The music mocked his speechless misery. He raised his hand, unconscious of his power, And grasped the bough which held the dainty nest, And the branch shrivelled in his hand ; with breast Panting in sudden pain, the bird fell dead. Aghast, he seized a flower, — The rose which Eve's fair hand at night had pressed ; Beneath his touch it withered ; bud and leaf Dropped dry and scentless. In a bitter grief He murmured — "This is death ! And this henceforth shall be mv destiny, — * * * To slay but not to die. To blight all things of mortal breath, ^-> d? / All earthly loveliness to sere, All that yon beings hold most dear Must perish when my steps draw near. Nor can I shun my fearful power, Or spare from them one dreaded hour. Onward I go through all the years, Unheeding human prayers and tears. Let mortals seek through toil and fears Some transient gleams of love and joy, I follow after to destroy." 12 LEGENDS. "Israfil!" The an£el looked and bowed his face o Before a brow whose sweet, majestic grace Had shone upon him oft in happier morn, From the Eternal hill Whose dazzling height reveals the Father'? throne. Immanuel the First Born Stood smiling on him in the early dawn. « Israfil, behold ! " The Son takes in his hand the withered rose, Its petals seem like magic to unfold. A new, celestial bloom, A heavenly perfume Through the awakened blossom breathes and glows. The Savior smiling lays it on His breast. He takes the dead bird from its broken nest, — It flutters, plumes its wings, Then rapturously sings And soars away toward the beaming Heaven. Then spake He — " Israfil, The Father to the Son a boon hath given. Go forth, but I am with thee. Do His will Who laid this doom upon thee, and be still. Thou dost destroy, but thus can I restore. Angel of death arise, and hope once more ! ISEAFIL. 13 From Abel's blood spilt on the altar stone To Calvary's cross which I must bear alone, Thou shalt be terrible to human kind And hope but dimly light the troubled mind. But from that grave which yields to me its portal, Faith shall come forth, the Comforter immortal, And thou, new-crowned, shalt be Seen by believing eyes linked hand in hand with Me!" Thus spake Iramanuel, and ascending passed Again unto His Father's house, to keep Unbroken watch while time and sorrow last, Of His beloved who in death shall sleep. And Israfil arose, serene and calm, And with one last look upon Eden's bower, Went forth into the morning's fragrant balm, o o * To wield forevermore his melancholy power. Israfil ! Let thy sickle return to the harvest that gleams White and wan on valley and hill, For my lyre is still. The sons: that I heard in the land of dreams O Is sung, and its magic shall haunt me no more. Ever yet to the unseen shore 14 LEGENDS. Bear earth's harvest, the loved and lost. Often thy shadow my door has crossed. I have seen thy icy fingers laid On lips that I loved and was not afraid. Following close on thy chill and gloom, Reaching up from the darkened tomb Was the very odor of heavenly bloom Shed from His garments who followed thee, And took my idols to keep for me. Israfil ! Come again at the Master's will. At thy cross and pang my flesh may shrink, But thy bitter cup I will dare to drink, And follow thee down to the river's brink. Through the breathless tide ~ I will clino; to the hand of the Crucified. O And when I awake on the further shore I shall see thee no more Sad and shrouded in garments dim, But the angel of peace, and brother of Him Who crowned thee and blessed thee on Cal- ' vary's Hill, Israfil ! HESPERUS. AWAKE, O beautiful Hesperus ! Awake ! for the day is done, And the royal purple curtains are drawn Round the couch of the sleeping sun. There is a hush on the blooming earth, A hush on the beating sea, And silence, too, in the courts of Heaven, For the stars all wait for thee, Hesperus ! All things beautiful wait for thee. Tis the hour for fancy's fairy reign, When the glowing brain is fraught With visions of beauty and bliss and love That leave no room for thought. With the light of warm and glorious dreams This narrow chamber is bright, And I need but thee to sing with me, O sweetest poet of night ! Hesperus, Open thy volume of golden light. 15 16 LEGENDS. There may I read of the youth of old Who clambered the mountain height, O ' And talked with stars in the midnight hours O Till he faded from human sight. CD Till his brow grew bright with wonderful light, And away from the world's rude jars, He was lost in the beams of his radiant dreams And himself was the fairest of stars. Hesperus ! The best beloved of all the stars ! There may I read this legend rare And its beautiful meaning learn, While my soul new kindled to hopes divine With a holy fire shall burn. O never should human heart despair Of the presence of God on high, 0 never should human faith grow dim, While the stars are in the sky ! Hesperus, Thy voice is the voice of eternity. Thou art smiling down on me, Hesperus ! With that smile upon my heart 1 know that kindred to me and mine In those measureless heights thou art. HESPERUS. 17 When thy spirit blossomed into a star In the mystical days of old, The love and the hope it bore on high, The legend hath never told. Hesperus, Thy sweetest story hath never been told. O to be like thee, Hesperus ! To climb the heights of truth, O * And there to drink of celestial airs, To glow with immortal youth ; There wrapt in the light which is born in skies Where the blessed angels are, To hear earth's harmonies only rise, Floating sweetly up from afar. Hesperus ! How can my spirit be made a star ? A LEGEND OF THE DAWN. FROM a bed of velvet the Tourmaline Its crystal splendors of red and green, Toned and mellowed by milk-white bars, Flashed in the sunset. The prisoned rays Glittering, shimmering under my gaze, Now soft as the rainbow's melting haze, ^j / Now fierce and fine as the light of stars, Held me, thrilled me with magic glance! All the fairest and wildest flights Of fancy, winged in Arabian Nights, Circling slow in bewildering dance Seemed to float o'er the jewel rare. Till half afraid, lest a look profane The spell-bound spirit imprisoned there, I turned away, — but all in vain — The mystery breathed from the page again. For there I read of pure and priceless ores Stored as by some malignant, fateful plan, In desert isles, on solitary shores, Beyond the reach and far from haunts of man. 18 A LEGEND OF THE DAWN. 19 Of wrath of winds and waters, storm and fire To baffle and to thwart the world's desire For precious stones; and though with new delight Age after age some treasure brings to sight, Brilliants unnumbered sleep in endless night. In secret still the jealous elements nurse The crystal blossoms of the universe. I closed the book. I lifted from its bed Of tawny velvet the enchanted stone. Again its fiery glance upon me shone, All sense of present, actual being fled. Backward, far backward in the dawn of time Floated my vision; in creation's prime, When Genii roamed in daring strength abroad, But living souls were hidden still with God. Can this be morning, — this light which breaks In utter silence o'er land and sea ? No bower in the forest, no tent on the lea, No sail on the rivers, no oar on the lakes, Nor voice, nor motion of grief or glee ? Even the sunlight, a languid ray, Lingers and dreams at the door of day. But hark ! what tone, what elfin strain Wakens the landscape to life again ? 20 LEGENDS. " Come Genii of the deep ! Come, giant forms of the earth and sky ! Ye who toil without rest or sleep, Whose lips never smile and whose eyes never weep, But whose hands are mighty to gather and reap The beautiful harvest of diadems. Come, for the end of your toil is nigh. The days primeval are told ; The veins of the earth are full of £old ; O ? The ocean's sparkling floor Lights up the waters with glittering ore, Over vast spaces like shadows creep, And come to the island of gems." A voice like music wafted from afar, Faint and aerial and unreal as are The utterances of all the soulless things Which of mysterious birth Move to and fro upon the living earth, Sent forth this wild and melancholy call. It floated out upon the winds, and all The breezy spirits spread their fragrant wings And bore it up and down the sea and land. It pierced the depths, and drowsy ocean stirred And sounded it again, till it was heard In deepest cave, on farthest icy strand. A LEGEND OF THE DAWN. 21 Then to the island of flame Luminous far over tropic seas, Summoned by heralds of billow and breeze, Unnumbered Genii came. Gem of the ocean the island lay, Veiled with a mist of rainbow spray ; Nor leaf, nor verdure adorned the side Of the sloping cliffs, but far and wide Crystal masses of white and green, Beds of amethyst, paths of spar Spangled with diamonds brighter far Than noonday's radiant sunbeams are ; Terrace of rubies, like scarlet flowers, Sapphire violets, emerald bowers, Crimson and olive tourmaline, With banks of topaz whose azure gleams Were blent with pearl wreaths of silver sheen. Hither swiftly and silently came Spirits of billow and vapor and flame, Subject all to the beautiful queen Eola of golden beams ! She solitary on her brilliant throne, A seat of gold with vivid gems inwrought — Beheld them as they gathered one by one. Each to her feet some sparkling jewel brought, Which with new lustre in her presence shone. 22 LEGENDS. Giants were they in form, and dark and grave, Their features neither hope nor sorrow wore ; In time's first hours to them the Maker gave Such endless life as earthly elements have, With strength and will to work the precious ore. Arrayed before the sovereign, as in turn Her shining glance on each one chanced to burn, The shadow brings, dusky, dark and stern Gave forth prismatic lights of various hue, Till like their own rich handiwork they grew. " Ye to whom power is given Over the secrets of land and sea, Mingling the life-giving beams of heaven With the dark vapors, the deathly mould That earth's abysses and caverns hold, Into the night of memory reach ! Borrow of winds and waters speech, And tell once more The work ye have wrought with the shining ore." Then one who spake for many, bowed him low Before her throne. " Eola ! thou dost know We were of Chaos and of Darkness born. Without thee we were helpless, blind and weak. But when the first Day grew to glowing morn. Daughter of Light ! thv glance had power to speak ~ */ ~ A LEGEND OF THE DAWN. 23 Our torpor into life. By thee sent forth, Armed with thy beams, we wandered south and north And to remotest wilds of east and west, The purest treasure of the earth our quest. Where'er thy spear on desert rock or land Revealed a grain of unpolluted sand, Lustrous and clear, we bore it to the strand Of mighty ocean, and the salt sea wave Planted in priceless beds the seed we gave. Flames wrought beneath the ocean, central fires O Upturned the depths, and laid on every shore Perfected miracles of precious ore. Now we rejoice in thy fulfilled desires." Then hastilv bending down, v <37 ' One laid at her feet a crown From whose central jewel seemed to unfurl Petals of opal with frosts of pearl, And sprays like dew-drops on yellow sheaves. " The light of thy love, O queen ! We have wrought into brilliants of purple and green, Into blossoms that never shall lose their sheen, Nor their glowing, beautiful dyes. Each glance of thy sunny eyes Some happy spirit delighted weaves 24 LEGENDS. Into deathless beauty. Let thy command Speed on our labors. From every land Let us bring the spoil, till the final day The reign of the human shall end our sway."- As some fair tree white with perfected bloom Waves slowly to and fro, and slowly fall The snowflake petals, till the verdure all Is strewn with drifts of prodigal perfume, So now Eola, sun-born spirit, shook Her waving tresses with a mournful smile, And falling beams illumined all the isle. " That day has come, O genii ! ye may look Even now upon the new created one For whom all days their wonder work have done. My spirits, do ye not remember well When from the vast, blue dome above, there fell A Voice which shook the firmament, and ye Heard the Invisible utter His decree — " Let us make man ! ' the angels heard and sung Paeans with which the whirling planets rung, But in the deepest shade Ye hid yourselves, sore troubled and afraid. O Genii ! know that unto the last day Of the creation only, we have sway. The world is ripe for man; we phantoms must away ! " A LEGEND OF THE DAWN. l Then sounds and sighings of woe Through all the island were heard, And the waves of the listening ocean stirred And beat on the fringing coral reef With a sullen, angry flow, And an undertone of grief. "Ah! we remember, queen! We too have the omens seen Of creation's ultimate change. It was not for us that the waters rolled And left the isles and continents free. It was not for us that verdure and tree, Foliage gorgeous and manifold. With flowers like jewels of red and gold, — Robed the valleys and wreathed the hills ; Not ours the shadow of oak and palm, And fruits that ripen with breath of balm ; Not ours the music the wild bird trills Nor the strength of the forest. But say, O queen, What later signal thine eyes have seen." Slowly she spoke — the shining lustre shed In fainter sparkles from her beaming head. "I saw, O children of the fire and flood, A garden which your feet have never trod. 26 LEGENDS. Vast, beautiful and rich with foliage rare, Earth has no vale so spacious nor so fair. And in the midst one walked, of lesser height Than we, but firm, compact, and fair to sight. He spoke — his voice rang out distinct and clear; The beasts with mild obedience drew near, And the birds hushed their delicate notes to hear. I glided closer and by him unseen Watched his superior step, his fearless mien, Until with brow uplifted to the sky He said aloud ' Our Father ! ' from on hisrh O The Voice that called the days to life replied, And I fled trembling from the garden's side. Alas ! in fearful haste I dropped a gem, The brighest star from out my diadem, Low at his feet it lies, Mocked by the fairer bloom of Paradise. " But not for the new born race Are the treasures that ve have won «/ My children of fire and sun ! Still in some secret space, Some hidden grotto of earth or cave, In mountain granite or black sea wave We will find a resting-place. O 1 A LEGEND OF THE DAWN. 27 To your utmost depths ye sons of fire ! Ye foam-tressed waves roll wilder, higher, Snow spirits, winds, your plumes outspread, Daughters of sunlight o'er wide earth flee — And wherever a mortal foot may tread, Gather in haste and bring to me. We will bury our jewels in mountain and main, And the mighty, hereafter, shall seek them in vain." Silent and swift the genii now began To hide the riches they had wrought, from man. Into great rifts of mountain rock they poured The gold a thousand centuries had stored, With gleaming sands the river beds were sown. O O Masses of crystal, violet, rose, and white, Tinting the waters far with colored light, Into the secret ocean depths were thrown. Hard was their toil, nor did Eola shun To give them aid, though daughter of the sun. O * O O At sunset all was ended. Gathered there Upon the island desolate and bare, Dim, wavering forms already fain to flee O tf The presence of unknown humanity, They looked upon their queen. She took her crown, Of its lost gem despoiled, and cast it down 28 LEGENDS. Into the waters. From her shoulders fell The mantle of the sunbeams. "Now, farewell, Sweet light of day ! " she uttered — " We will keep Eternal watch within the unsounded deep. Woe to the hand that for the prize may dare In toil and pain to search. The rock shall be Of adamantine strength : the trusty sea Unwilling yield one golden grain, and care And ill unmeasured be the victor's share." Fading, fading away, Lost in the dying day, The Genii vanished from sea and shore. Loudly lamented the winds ; the sun Sunk among vapors ashy and dun, The rain-clouds sobbed as the niMit bejmn. O O ' The island trembled and quaked with woe. There were sounds of feet going to and fro On the ocean's echoing floor, But moaning tempest, nor midnight rain, Nor morning sunlight could call a^ain O O *-- The Genii forth. With charm and sign They had touched each gem of their boundless store, The door was sealed of each golden mine, The pathway darkened forevermore. THE BIRTH OF THE ROSE. LONG ago a lovely wood nymph, Flora's fairest child, Roamed Arcadia's velvet meadows, Silent, shy, and wild, Until Death, enamored, met her In her beauty's glow, Touched her with his lip of marble, Kissed her cheek to snow. Flora found her 'mid the blossoms Beautiful and still. " Help ! ' she cried, " ye happy dwellers On the purple hill ! " Wrest from Death the fairest being o Ever missed from earth ; Let the flower of nymphs inherit A celestial birth." See the shining ones descending ! <~> o All Arcadia gleams. 29 30 LEGENDS. First Apollo warms her forehead With electric beams : Bacchus bathes her lips with nectar Worthy of the god : Her wrhite feet Vertumnus covers With a fragrant sod. Lo ! the radiant transformation ! One by one unclose Tendrils, leaves, and snowy petals Of the perfect Rose ! All the nymph's remembered graces Hover round the flower, Sweetness, tenderness, and passion Still her beauty's dower. Soon the praise of the Immortals To a richer flush Warms the rose — her colors brighten To Aurora's blush ; Then the nightingale in rapture Warbles sweet and long Till a hue of love's vermilion Answers to his song. THE BIRTH OF THE HOSE. 31 " Bloom forever nymph enchanted ! ' The Olympians cry — " Kindred both to earth and heaven, Thou shalt never die ! r Down through centuries of blossom, <3 t Ages of delight, Still the royal rose of summer Opens on our sight. And the half-bewildered fancy Through the fragrant bowers Searches for the haunting mystery Of this flower of flowers. 'T is the nymph so deftly hidden In a leafy shrine, In her golden heart still throbbing Memories divine. Ever silent, ever seeing, Every heart she knows, — All thy love, thy hope, thy longing Whisper to the Rose ! BALDUR THE BEAUTIFUL. IN the far north, when the midsummer night Is but the sunset wedded to the light Of a new morning, upon cliff and hill Burns the bale-fire to Baldur : as its flame Salutes the sleepless sun, the Norsemen still Utter that sacred name, And year by year the wonder-myth is told Of Baldur, joy of men and gods in days of old ! On royal Asgard's height No god like Baldur beamed upon the sight. Others were mighty, — he was pure as light. Pleasant his voice as rivulets, his eyes Sun bright and radiant as midsummer skies, And his long yellow locks gave forth perfumes When the wind-giant shook with glee his eagle plumes. All living things adored him. Singing birds Their joyance caught from listening to his words, 32 BALDUR THE BEAUTIFUL. 33 Flames, floods, winds, lightnings, in accordant breath Vowed that to him should come no stroke of death. The ores and rocks, the mosses, vines, and trees, The strong, tumultuous seas Gave glad response, and it was sung and said By all the beams above, the shades below, The snow-white feet of Baldur ne'er should tread The path of wail and woe Down to the ice-walled dwelling of the dead. One thing alone was dumb, — the creeping mistletoe ! Thus in no fear of death, the gods at play Made him their target, Avhile the midnight sun Smiled o'er the wide, pale moors with mellow ray, Half evening and half day, And Baldur lightly caught and tossed away Sword, lance, or arrow, till with victories won His brow grew dazzling, and the farthest fields Of Ass-ard were illumined, and the shields O ' Upon Valhalla with his image shone. Then stepped the blind old god Hoder upon the arrow-sprinkled sod ; 34 LEGENDS. He too would share the merriment. Ah! woe! To Baldur's heart sped straight the fated mistletoe ! Beautiful as a marble god he lay, When life had ebbed away, Or like a rose tree in its prime cut down With all its flowery crown. Time never knew a more despairing cry Than smote the startled sky. It reached the utmost depths of death and night, And Hela, goddess terrible to sight, Trembled upon her throne, And gazed on the white ghost she dared not call her own. But swift a messenger had followed him, And at the portals grim Knocked loud. " What ransom, Hela, shall be given By heroes of the earth and gods of Heaven, To win beloved Baldur back to life ? Already discord mutters sounds of strife And clouds of vengeance gather. Speak and take The wealth of land and ocean for his sake ! r BALDUR THE BEAUTIFUL. 35 And as Valhalla's message borne above The mists of Nifflehem, on wings of love, Readied Hela's seat, with sudden pity moved, She spoke — "If Baldur was so greatly loved, Bid all the world to weep ; the heart-wrung moan Of every living thing may melt Death's heart of stone." The wide world heard and with a rain of tears Gave answer, but in all the countless years Baldur returns not, and no later skies Have smiled upon his vanished Paradise. Though the soft falling dews bring new-born o o o day "With fresh, alluring ray, The winter frosts dissolve in penitent grief And open bud and leaf, Baldur the Beautiful takes not his place Fairest of human as of godlike race, Earth has not tears enough to bring again O O O Lost innocence, pure peace, — Heaven's primal THE GARDEN OF IREM. WHEEE burns beneath Arabia's dazzling sky The desert waste of Aden, leafless, bare, A stately garden on the Elysian air Its beauty shed, entrancing every eye. An oasis of green, Brilliant with flowers and silvery waters' sheen. The fig and olive yielded fragrant shade, The vine with royal purple decked the wall ; Sweet was the music of the fountain's fall, Whose dancing drops among the roses played, And all the balmy night The bulbul trilled his tremulous A palace in the midst arose, whose towers The sunshine mocked with gilded opulence, Its inner court reflected rays intense, Inlaid with gems that sparkled 'mid the flowers. Through glistening wires of gold, Birds rainbow-hued their plaintive numbers told. 36 THE GARDEN OF IREM. 37 The doors were ever open, and the sound Of ceaseless mirth made day most musical, Never was heard the trumpet's warning call, For feast and pageant led the year around. Till Irem's happy name The symbol of terrestrial bliss became. Then suddenly — while yet the warbling lute Vibrated to the dancer's jewelled feet, The Simoom of the desert, fierce and fleet, Swept by, and Irem was forever mute ! A blinding sea of sand Hid the delight of all the mourning land. O O Long ages passed ; and men had ceased to heed The story, till Colabah sought one day A camel which had wandered far away Beyond Al Ahkaf's dreary plain to feed ; And as the hour grew late He found himself within a palace gate. High, gilded towers within a garden rare, A blooming waste from whence all life had flown, For vacant windows in the sunlight shone And fruit, unpluck'd, with sweets oppress'd the air. 'Mid creamy blossoms hung Cages of twisted gold that empty swung. 38 LEGENDS. A moment with strange rapture he perceived The blaze of beauty, then the deathly calm Smote him with sudden sense of nameless harm. Backward he turned ; yet fain to be believed, He grasped with hasty hand A few, bright pebbles from the sparkling sand. Then swiftly fleeing, to his comrades bore The tale of Irem's splendor lost and found ; Nor could they scoff, when, from his robe unbound, He showed his treasure of mysterious ore. For lo ! the sunset kissed Rare stones of topaz, agate, amethyst ! Vainly at morning's break they searched the plain For its hid treasure. The unanswering sands Kept well the secret of their Genii's hands, ISTor yielded Irem to the world again. But with serenest flame Still glowed the gems and told Colabah's fame. Ah ! thus the Bard whom inspiration leads Into the realm of visionary thought. In hidden paths, by bowers divinely wrought, THE GARDEN OF I HEM. 39 Upon enchanted fruits his fancy feeds. Till suddenly he spies Unreal splendors deck his Paradise, — Then fleeing, half in rapture, half in fright, He seeks the world of daily life once more : •/ The charm is lost, the bloom, the brilliance o'er. Yet happy if he gathered in his flight, To shine through many days, One priceless gem of beauty, love or praise. ST. GREGORY'S GUEST. AT St. Andrew's Convent gate Gregory, monk of pious fame, Day by day at vesper bell Heard a beggar call his name. oo" And from prayer or chanted hymn By unwearied patience led, Still wTith helpful word and gift He the stranger comforted. All he gave : the relic last, Dearest of his meagre store, Not till then he pitying plead — " Importune me, friend, no more ! ' Years passed on ; the lowly monk Sat upon the pontiff's throne, The tiara, with the heart Of all Rome, was now his own. Yet in high as low estate Gave he richly from his store, 40 ST. GREGORY'S GUEST. 41 Twelve poor men each eventide Supped within his palace door. And as once he sat with them, Earnest each one's need to know, He perceived a stranger guest All the others placed below. To his steward beckoned he — " One unbidden friend is here — Go, salute him ! bid him take Freely of our evening cheer." Down the room the servant passed ; — " Only twelve are here to night." " Count again ! behold he sits d? Where the sunshine lingers bright ; O O •* " See his yellow, flowing hair Blending with the sunset flame ! Pale his brow, serene his gaze — I would know from whence he came." Once again with troubled haste Up and down the steward glides ; " Twelve good pilgrims sup with thee, And no alien 'mid them hides." 42 LEGENDS. " It is well," the Father said, But his heart within him shook 5 He perceived that in their midst One unseen the feast partook ! On the room a silence fell, Silence as of heavenly grace — Ah ! how burned the sunset gold On each pilgrim's bended face, And upon the threshold poised, Mindful of the unwonted spell, Lo ! a silver plumaged dove Trilled a mellow canticle ! One by one the guests withdrew, Then the stranger coming near Silent paused — the pontiff's lips Trembling asked — " What dost thou here ? " " Gregory ! at St. Andrew's gate Oft to me thy alms were given, Fear not now thy soul's desire In my name to ask of Heaven ! " As he spoke celestial rays Soft around his forehead flowed, ST. GREGORY'S GUEST. 43 And his form from earth upraised In a violet nimbus glowed. Slow the shining vision passed — All his soul in thanks outpoured, Blessed Gregory cried aloud, " I have entertained the Lord ! " A STORM FANTASY. THE lonely wind a Banshee of despair Wails through the wintry night, And the affrighted Moon, no longer fair, Veils her wan face from sight. She knows the signals of that voice and why With his keen moan he desolates the sky. The sad, sad Rain comes sobbing at his call, She smites the earth with tears — " There is no rest," she sighs — " no rest in all The ever-dying years. In cloudland hid I would forever stay, Why call me thence to weep my life away ? ' Thus as the ages pass ; and who may know Or dare to tell again The legend of these spectres and their woe, The grieving Wind and Rain ? O O Lovers perchance in some primeval world, For darkest treachery into darkness hurled ! 44 A STORM FANTASY. 45 Still mocked by hope and haunted by regret They seek the earth again, Yearning to meet each other they forget Their wish is always vain. For he has but a voice of wordless woe, She has but tears that blind her as they flow. O lost, lost spirits of the storm and night ! Listening to you I know There is a depth to which no ray of light From Heaven's expanse can flow. Come, Ans^el of the morning, come ao-ain ! * d? CJ ' ^j Speak "Peace — be still! "unto the Wind and Rain. TUBA. 'T is written on the flowery page Of Islam's visionary sage, That Tuba tree of happiness, Whose fruit shall all believers bless, Hath roots whose fibres strong and deep Beneath the world's foundations sleep, Yet never wind of earth shall blow The odors from one spicy bough. Far up beyond the walls of time The star-bespangled branches climb, Up through the musky gardens where Eternal sunshine gilds the air, And winged Houris flutter by To low, delicious melody. There over every palace door The boughs of Tuba fragrance pour — 46 TUBA. 47 And sweet bells hung amid the flowers ~ Ring in and out the joyous hours. Has not the orient sage declared A truth which every soul has shared ? We pluck the green leaves of delight — The branches reach beyond our sight ; The germ of happiness is ours, But airs diviner hide the flowers. Here disappointment, gaunt and gray, Salutes us daily on our way, The truest love knows direst loss, The surest triumph bears a cross, And yet the soul may smile on fate And with most loyal patience wait, Believing that on heights unknown V I ^J She yet will come unto her own — Where Islam's tree, transfigured, gleams With fairer fruit than Islam dreams ! IN days of old, In solitude and silence grew the hour When God and Nature first beheld unfold The solitary flower. Purple as night Its petals opened in the forest gloom, And the winds pausing in their seaward flight Inhaled the strange perfume. The hoary oak Felt in its branches a responsive thrill, The eagle from his lonely eyrie spoke, And all again was still. n. Unwritten ages rolled Into the past, and as each century's bell Struck the full hour, the blossom would unfold, With none its tale to tell. 48 TEE CENTURY PLANT. 49 At last the silence ceased, The desert wilderness a voice had found. Strange wanderers from the overflowing East Sought here a hunting ground. The shadow-haunted glades Echoed the savage song — the warrior cry — And wild, barbaric worship filled the shades With awful mystery. Life warm and new Through the dull fibres of the tree was shed; The swelling buds revealed a living hue — Tinge of the morning red. in. Not unblest The thousand years of silence and of night ; Unto the hidden gardens of the West God said — " Let there be light ! " And behold ! It blooms again, the latest flower of Time ! In the dark ages who could have foretold The glory of its prime ? 50 LEGENDS. Palmiest days Of Grecian grandeur or of Roman pride Saw not their century bloom in such a blaze Of fame, full-orbed, world-wide. Heaven, bend low ! From the last, lingering gloom our land release ! Let the perfection of the ages blow White as the plume of Peace ! A TUSCAN LEGEND. good St. Ambrose paused at close of day Before a Tuscan noble's open door, With welcome words the host his entrance urged And spread before him of his choicest store. Within, the palace shone with gems of art, Bronze, marble, gold, in forms antique and rare, Refreshing fountains tossed a snowy spray, And sumptuous roses sweetened all the air. The fasting saint with thanks the food partook, And with his fellow-pilgrims silent shared, Then, still reclining at the table, sought Of his kind host if well or ill he fared. Glowed with a haughty joy the Tuscan's brow, — "All things are well with me," his proud reply — •'My wealth provides for each luxurious want, Nor knows ambition one unanswered sigh. 51 52 LEGENDS. "My slaves, obedient, watch my lightest look; My children, beautiful, enhance my joy ; Pain, mourning, in this palace are unknown, My state is happiness without alloy." What said the saint ? Up from that lordly board He rose in haste, his visnge pale with fear, And to the startled pilgrims cried aloud, " Flee from this place ! the Lord abides not here." Outspoken saint ! Thy words may well convey Terror and comfort to the end of time ; Woe, to the soul sufficient to itself, But to the stricken, prophecy sublime. Grief is the shadow of the Lord's approach, Darkness, the pathway of the Bethlehem star, — Let him exult whom sacred sorrow leads To reach for God, and find He is not far! THE HELIOTROPE. SOMEWHERE 't is told that in an Eastern land, Clasped in the dull palm of a mummy's hand A few lii^ht seeds were found : with wondering o eyes And words of awe was lifted up the prize. And much they marvelled what could be so dear Of herb or flower as to be treasured here, What sacred vow had made the dying keep So close this token for his last long sleep. None ever knew, but in the fresh, warm earth The cherished seeds sprang to a second birth, And eloquent once more with love and hope Burst into bloom the purple heliotrope. Embalmed, perhaps, with sorrow's fiery tears, Out of the silence of a thousand years It answered back the passion of the past With the pure breath of perfect peace at last. 53 54 LEGENDS. O pulseless heart ! as ages pass, sleep well ! The purple flower thy secret will not tell, But only to our eager quest reply, " Love, hidden in the grave, can never die." THE FIRST AT THE FEAST. ST. MARTIX once, an honored guest, Sat at the royal board ; With his own hand a cup of wine The gracious sovereign poured, And bade, with smiles, the favored priest Drink first, as greatest at the feast. The father took the sparkling cup, — With priceless gems it blazed, — And down the gleaming banquet hall In thoughtful silence gazed. How shone the place with splendors rare ! Was he indeed the greatest there ? What to the King of Kings availed This pomp of earthly state ? What unto Him were crown and throne And soldiers at the gate ? The flowers, the lights, the lustrous gold, The music that voluptuous rolled? 55 56 LEGENDS. Would Heaven's high Sovereign deem him great. O O O ' Because a fleeting hour He sunned himself in royal smiles And shared imperial power ? Ah ! nobler far the humblest there Who meekly served in trust and prayer. "Not unto me ! " he spoke at last — And beckoned with his hand To a poor priest who waiting stood To hear his least command. " By worldly glory undefiled, Drink thou, our Master's worthier child ! ' The priest obeyed ; the monarch heard A voice beyond his own ; Nobles and warriors bowed in awe Of a superior throne. And in the hush St. Martin's face Seemed to illumine all the place ! TEARS OF ISIS. WHEN Isis, by true mother love oppressed, Held wounded Horus to her goddess breast, Each tear that touched the sympathetic earth To some rich, aromatic herb gave birth. Such healing sprang from her celestial pain, Mortals no longer seek relief in vain, For oft as spring awakes the slumbering years, In wood and meadow blossom Isis' tears. O Goddess of the starry lotus bloom ! Thou didst foreshadow many a lonely doom ; Thy sorrow by divinest alchemy Could comfort others, — who could comfort thee? 57 VIDAR THE SILENT. WHEN the last bird flutters southward As the sunlight fainter glows, And into the dim November A pensive stillness flows, When the mountain summits wrap them In robes of brown and gold, I think of the Norsemen's Vidar, The silent god of old. He dwells in the boundless forests, In pathless wilds unknown, He loves the breeze-rocked prairies, And the mountains are his own. In the bloom of songful summer He shuns the haunts of men, But he comes with the days of darkness To look on the world again. By the bleak and desolate sea-shore The waves their tumult cease, The rivulets know his footfall And tremble into peace. •58 VIDAR THE SILENT. 59 The wind steals into the forest, The tall trees watchful stand, And the stars hang mute and pensive As he roams the leafless land. • No voice nor speech has Vidar, And his features no man knows, But he lays his hand on the heart-strings And wonderful music flows ; As if the reverberations Of a long and sorrowful past Were slowly ascending and blending With the peace that shall come at last. Thus Vidar the Silent passes Over the world's wide space, Giving to all who greet him One beautiful hour of grace. Then welcome the tuneless branches ! Welcome the darkened days ! There shall be light on the shadows And in the stillness, praise. SONG OF PLYMOUTH ROCK. A THOUSAND years I kept My watch by the slumbering sea, A thousand omens read Of the day that was coming to me. 'T was uttered by wind and wave And whispered by cloud and star, " The soul of Freedom sleeps until The c Mayflower ' sails from far." The tide came surging up From the depths of ocean's caves, And ever a promise brought Of the bark that would cross the waves , The tide went rolling down O In surf and swell and foam, And ever I dreamed it ran to bid The " Mayflower " welcome home ! It fell with the falling snow, The word of fate at last, 60 OF PL Y MOUTH ROCK. 61 And the hailing bell of freedom rang In the stormy, wintry blast. " O sea ! " I said — " be kind ! Be faithful sky and star ! With priceless freight to all the land The " Mayflower " rides afar. She was moored within the bay, Pale blossom of the sea — And the boats went to and fro Until all were brought to me. O I had waited long For the touch of those pilgrim feet : The wintry air grew redolent With incense strange and sweet, For the gate of heaven swung wide And angels thronged the air, As that Pilgrim band their voices raised O In fervent praise and prayer. They were feeble, faint and few, That little sea-tossed flock, But never en earth will the echo die, Of that prayer upon the Rock. 62 LEGENDS. The wanderers passed on To watch and toil and die, And the " Mayflower " homeward sailed And was lost in the morning sky ; But wide over all the land, Free as the sunlight's ray, Grow the fearless faith, the fervent zeal Which came to shore that day. Now evermore I watch By the side of the sounding sea, Muse and ponder and dream Of the glory that came to me. For Freedom crossed the deep To a heritage unknown ; The " Mayflower " was her ark of hope, The Rock her altar-stone. NOROMBEGA. MIDSUMMER'S crimson moon Above the hills like some night-opening rose Uplifted, pours its beauty down the vale Where broad Penobscot flows. The night is all in bloom With subtle sweetness from the skies distilled, The vesper wind in whispers steals along, By the soft silence thrilled. Of old the fairy world Held royal revel on midsummer's eve, Once more along the moonbeams they may come The twinkling dance to weave ; Or by the moonlight spell Entranced, and listening with attentive ear, The drowsy whispers of the ripening leaves And harvests, I may hear. Now on the field of night No longer blooms one solitary rose! 63 64 LEGENDS. With countless groups of silver-petalled stars The infinite garden glows, And the transfigured moon, Grown paler, clearer, like a lily white, Immaculate in beauty, hangs above The starry wreath of night. A splendid glamour drowns All sound in silence; even the lapping wave Just trembles to the shore, with stilly touch The lonely rock to lave. And I remember now, That this is haunted ground. In ages past Here stood the storied Norombecja's walls O Magnificent and vast. The streets were ivory-paved, The stately walls were built of golden ore, Its domes outshone the sunset, and full boughs O Hesperian fruitage bore. And up this winding flood Has wandered many a sea-tossed, daring bark, While ea^er eyes have scanned the ruined shore, O * ~C? Or pierced the wild wood dark ; NOROMBEGA. 65 But watched in vain : afar They saw the spires gleam golden on the sky, The distant drum-beat heard, or bugle note, Wound wildly, fitfully, — Banners of strange device Beckoned from distant heights, yet as the stream Narrowed among the hills, the city fled, A mystery, or a dream. In the deep forest hid Like the enchanted princess of romance, Wooing an endless search, yet still secure In her unbroken trance. 0 city of the Past ! No mirage of the wilderness wert thou ! Though yet unfreed from the mysterious spell, 1 deem thee slumbering now. Perhaps invisible feet White-sandalled pass amid the moonbeams pale, Yon shadow-wave may be some lordly barge Drifting with phantom sail. The legend was not all A myth, it was a prophecy as well : 66 LEGENDS. In Norombega's cloud-wrapt palaces The living yet shall dwell. Fed by its hundred lakes Here shall the river run o'er golden sands, These hills in burnished tower and temple shine Beneath the builder's hands ! Where tarries still the hour When the true knight shall the enchantment O break, Unveil the peerless city of the east, The charmed princess wake ? Till then, O River, tell To none but dreaming bards the Future's boon ! Till then guard thou the mystery of the vale, Midsummer midnight moon ! KINEO. THE LEGEND OF MOOSSHEAD LAKE. How beautiful the morning breaks Upon the King of mountain lakes ! The forests, far as eye can reach, Stretch green and still from either beach, And leagues away the water's gleam Resplendent in the sunrise beam ; Yet feathery vapors, circling slow Wreathe the dark brow of Kineo. The hermit Mount in sullen scorn Repels the rosy touch of morn, As some remorseful, lonely heart, From human pleasure set apart, Shrinks even from the tender touch Of pity, lest it yield too much, So speechless still to friend or foe, Frowns the black cliff of Kineo. Yet, as the whispering ripples break From the still surface of the lake On the repellent rocks, they seem To murmur low, as in a dream, 67 68 LEGENDS. The mountain's name, and day by day The listening breezes bear away A memory of the long ago., A sad, wild tale of Kineo. How many moons can no man say O'er heaven's blue sea have sailed away, Since Kineo and his fleet canoe First vanished from his kindred's view. Hunter and warrior, lithe and keen, No brave on all the lake was seen Whose wigwani could such trophies show, As the green roof of Kineo. But wrathful, jealous, quick to strife, He lived a passion-darkened life ; Even Maquaso, his mother, fled His baneful lodge in mortal dread. Then gathering round the midnight fire, The old men spake with threatenings dire " Out from our councils he must go, The demon-haunted Kineo ! " In sullen and remorseful mood He gave himself to solitude. Up the wild rocks by night he bore Of all he prized a stealthy'store, — KINEO. 69 Flint, arrows, knife and birch. Who knows But some dark lock or dead wild rose, The phantom of an untold woe, Shared the lone haunt of Kineo ? The mountain was his own ; than he None other dared its mystery. None sought to meet the savage glare Of the wild hunter in his lair : But when far up the mountain side Each night a lurid flame they spied, The watchful red men muttered low, " There hides our brother Kineo." Years passed. Among the storm-swept pines From moon to moon he read the signs Of blossom and decay. He knew The eagle that familiar flew About his path. The fearless bird His melancholy accents heard, But glen or shore no more might know The swift, still step of Kineo, Save once. His tribe in deadly fray Had battled all the lowering day, And many a brave Penobscot's blood Was mingling in the lake's pure flood, 70 LEGENDS. When like a spectre, through the gloom, With gleaming knife and eagle plume, And glance that burned with lurid glow, Strode the bold form of Kineo ! A hush like death — and then a cry, Fierce and exultant, pierced the sky I They rallied round that fiery plume And smote the foe with hopeless doom. But when the grateful warriors fain Would seek his well-known face again, Their gifts and homage to bestow, Gone, like a mist, was Kineo. They saw him not, but from that hour They bowed before his wizard power ; His watch-fire grew to be a shrine Half terrible and half divine. None ever knew when death drew nigh, When into darker mystery Of cloud above or deep below Stole the sad ghost of Kineo. But when his camp-fire burned no more, The solitary mountain bore His name; and when at times the sky Grew dark, a long, despairing sigh K1NEO. 71 Down the dark precipices rolled And tempest terrible foretold. The fishers feared the wind, the snow, The lightning, less than Kineo. Now beautiful the morning skies Look on this forest paradise; Fresh voices, loud and joyous, wake The echoes of the grand old lake : But underneath that frowning height The shadow and the spell of night Come back : the oars fall still and slow, The waves sigh, Peace to Jfineof THE BOWDOIN OAK. Planted in 1802 by George Thorndike, a member of the first class of Bowdoin. He died at the age of twenty-one, the only one of that class remembered by the students of Bowdoin to-day. — Oration of T. 7?. Simon ton. YE breezy boughs of Bowdoin's oak, Sing low your summer rune ! In murmuring, rhythmic tones respond To every breath of June ; And memories of the joyous youth, Through all your songs repeat, Who plucked the acorn from the twig Blown lightly to his feet, And gayly to his fellows cried : "My destiny behold ! This seed shall keep my memory green In ages yet untold. " I trust it to the sheltering sod, I hail the promised tree ! Sing, unborn oak, through long decades, And ever sing of me ! ' THE BOW DO IN OAK. 1 By cloud and sunbeam nourished well, The tender sapling grew, Less stalwart than the rose which drank From the same cup of dew ; But royal blood was in its veins, Of true Hellenic line, And sunward reached its longing arms With impulses divine. The rushing river as it passed Caught whispers from the tree, And each returning tide brought back The answer of the sea. Till to the listening groves a voice, New and harmonious, spoke, And from a throne of foliage looked The spirit of the oak ! Then birds of happiest omen built High in its denser shade, And grand responses to the storms The sounding branches made. Beneath its bower the bard beloved His budding chaplet wore, o 74 LEGENDS. The wizard kin'ht. O We are the faithful. In our spicy boughs The breath of Lebanon forever flows. Summer or winter, life or death may be, Hope gathers garlands green from off the cedar tree 1 " O kindred of the wood, Lift up your heads ! for now the sunrise beams Scatter the mist of darkness and of dreams : The world is made anew and it is good ! A thousand voices herald summer's day, — Let us drink deep from life's fresh fountains while we may. THE FIRST ROBIN. WELCOME again, from the land of the summer, Bird in the maple with jubilant song ! Nodding and singing thy rapturous greeting, Where hast thou stayed from our garden so long ? Often the little ones looked from the window, When the soft snowflakes fell fleecy and dumb, Saying, "See, mother! the white bees are swarming ; When will they go and the red robins come ? ': Rocked on the bough of the silver-leafed maple, Hast thou one sigh for the orange and palm ? Could the magnolia's sweet-scented blossoms O Waft o'er thy sleep a more exquisite balm ? Bird of the North ! thou hast winged thy way homeward, Led by a love that was constant and strong, On the same bou^h that in other davs rocked V thee, Build a new nest, but, oh ! sing the old song 103 104 LYRICS. Herald art thou of the pageant approaching, The floral procession of Summer our queen ! Let the winds barken, and hasten the sunbeams To spread for her chariot a carpet of green. Bid the trees hang out their banners of welcome, Red and white banners of beautiful bloom ; Sing, happy bird, till thy comrades advancing Shall rout the last spectre of winter and gloom. VIOLETS. I KNOW a spot where woods are green, And all the dim, delicious June A brook flows fast the boughs between And trills an eager, joyous tune. In clear unbroken melody The brook sings and the birds reply : " The violets — the violets ! " Upon the water's velvet edge The purple blossoms breathe delight, Close nestled to the grassy sedge As sweet as dawn, as dark as nis;ht. ' O O brook and branches, far away, My heart keeps time with you to-day ! " The violets — the violets ! " I sometimes dream that when at last My life is done with fading things, Again will blossom forth the past To which my memory fondest clings. That some fair star has kept for me, Fresh blooming still by brook and tree, " The violets — the violets ! " 105 THE FEAST OF THE VALLEY. IN elder days, beside the tawny Nile Where royally embalmed the Pharaohs slept, Year after year with pomp of flags and flowers A beautiful and sacred feast was kept. Feast of the valley : when the living bore Tribute of fruits and incense to the dead, Marching in gay procession, richly robed, By the proud voice of drum and trumpet led. And nothing doubted they that souls beloved, Sailing the blue skies in Osiris' car, Perceived in slumberous calm the fragrant